Back to Normal
by WildestDreams93
Summary: Takes place in 4x01. AU. Dean and Bobby find Sam… just not in the way that they'd expect. limp!sam bigbrother!dean SamxOC Warning: contains major brotherly fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Takes place in 4x01. Dean and Bobby find Sam… just not in the way that they'd expect.

"You sure this is it, Bobby?"

"What do I look like, an idgit? Of course I'm sure." Bobby snapped, but it wasn't directed towards Dean. The older hunter was tearing himself a new one. He had let Sam wonder off after Dean's death, not that he had had much choice in the matter. The younger Winchester stayed with Bobby for all of a few hours before taking off, unable to continue on without his brother. Bobby would attempt to call and check in on him, but Sam would say the normal things 'I'm fine'. The boy was _anything_ but fine.

They pulled into a nice looking neighborhood, which had tons of houses that looked similar. It radiated Apple-pie lifestyle that his younger brother had only dreamt of for years. The white-picket fence, kids running around, the whole nine yards. Dean couldn't help but tear up at the sight, swallowing past the lump in his throat. It looked like Sammy finally found some happiness… some of that _normal_ he had been craving for so long. It would all be worth it. He cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the pointed look Bobby was giving him.

Bobby pulled into a driveway, glancing at Dean. Dean looked at the house with wide eyes. He was out of the truck before Bobby could even put it in park. Bobby hurried after him, reaching the door just as Dean rang the doorbell. The two nervously waited on the porch, not knowing exactly what they were going to see when the door opened.

After what felt like an eternity—Dean had spent the last four months in Hell, so yeah, he knew _exactly_ what an eternity felt like—the door swung open, revealing a pretty, brunette girl about Sam's age.

"Dean?" Her eyebrows rose up, "I thought… wow, come in. Come in."

Dean gave Bobby a puzzled look, which Bobby returned right back. The two hunters walked into the house, feeling as if this was a trap and Sam wasn't even here.

"How do you know my name, lady? Where's Sam?"

The young, brunette blushed, wiping her hands on her jeans nervously, "Sorry, I've just seen pictures and… wait right here. I'll go get him."

She quickly turned, rushing off to go get his brother. Dean walked towards the mantle, intending to look at the pictures that were sitting there. He could recognize his brother's shaggy hair anywhere. Just as he got close enough, Bobby stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Dean turned to look at the older man, frowning.

"I don't like this, Dean. This could be a trap for all we know." Bobby whispered, eyeing their surroundings.

"You tellin' me you don't think this house screams Sam Winchester? I mean, come on, Bobby. It's got a freakin' _fireplace_ with pictures on it for crying out loud. Sammy always lived for this kind of shit."

Bobby sighed, "I sure hope you're—"

Dean turned when Bobby trailed off and the lump in his throat returned. It was no trap. This was definitely Sam's house, because Sam was coming out of the room that the girl just entered. His brother. In a _wheelchair_.

"Sammy?" Dean asked hesitantly, nearly choked up already and his brother hadn't even made contact with him yet. He felt as if all air had been knocked out of him at the sight. Sam was… _paralyzed_? What the hell?

Sam looked up, mouth agape as he paused in wheeling towards them. His face went from shocked to anger in two seconds flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

AN: I'm so glad everyone's enjoying the story so far! Thanks for all the kind reviews, they mean a lot! For anyone curious as to who I pictured as Leah… here's a link:

name/nm3220170/?ref_=tt_cl_t6

Anyway… onto the brotherly fluff!

"Who the hell are you?" Sam raged, reaching behind him and grabbed his gun. His eyes were wild, untrusting, Dean said nothing, causing Sam to continue, "Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean my aim isn't in tact. Tell me _who_ the hell you are and what you want or I _swear_ to—"

"Sam— _no! _It's them. It's _really_ them." The girl who had let Dean and Bobby into the house interrupted, rushing towards Sam and standing in front of his gun, her eyes pleading with him.

"How do you know that, Leah?" Sam growled, eyes never straying from their guests.

"How do I know _anything_ these days, Sam?" Leah flashed her bright, stunningly blue eyes at him, "I checked them, alright. It's them. I don't know how or why, but it's them."

Sam hesitated, but then lowered his gun. His eyes flickered to hers.

"You're sure… you're _really_ sure that it's—"

Leah gave him a soft smile, caressing his cheek with one hand, "I'm sure." She lowered her hand and turned back to face Dean and Bobby. "I'll go get us some beer." She hesitated, looking from Sam to Dean, "On second thought, I'll get the whiskey."

Leah quickly disappeared as fast as she had entered. Sam looked at Dean as he rolled towards them, gun left forgotten in his lap as he stopped in front of his brother.

"Dean?" Sam's voice shook, eyes tearing up as he looked up. It had been years since Sam had had to look _up_ at anyone, much less Dean. Dean gave him a watery smile.

"I know. I look fantastic."

Sam barked out a laugh that was more of a cry than a laugh. Dean reached down, pulling his younger brother into a tight hug. Sam clung to him, his emotions running wild as he realized that he was back. Dean was alive and kicking again. They finally pulled away, both sniffling from unshed tears and both ignoring it. Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder as he stood up, back to his normal height.

"How are you—" Sam questioned, eyebrows furrowed looking from him to Bobby.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Bobby gave him a pointed look, causing Sam to feel uneasy.

"What?" Sam's eyebrows rose. He had no freaking clue what they were—

"What did it cost?" Dean asked, eyes glaring into him.

Oh. They thought _he_ brought Dean back?

"What? I—" Sam shook his head in confusion. He didn't bring Dean back. Not for lack of trying, though.

"Cut the crap, Sam. Was it just your soul or was it something worse? Huh, what did you _do_? I can't—"

"I… I didn't make a deal," Sam spoke quickly, attempting to get a word in. He swallowed harshly, sounding resigned as he spoke, "Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal."

Dean spared a glance with Bobby. Sam blinked back tears, unable to take his eyes off of his brother. His brother who was _alive_. It felt like a dream.

"Don't lie to me," Dean spoke harshly, folding his arms across his chest as he stared down at his brother.

"I'm not lying, Dean!" Sam exclaimed angrily, griping the wheels tightly with both hands. "You were rotting in Hell for months. For _months_, and I couldn't stop it. I tried everything, but _nothing_ fucking worked. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm _sorry_." By the end of his rant, Sam was on the verge of crying, something his brother quickly took notice of. Guilt ate at Dean, but he pushed it down. Like he always did.

"Sam, it's okay—"

Sam shook his head, "No, it's not. I— anyway. Let's head to the living room."

So, they did and Dean took a good look at his brother. He was seemingly healthy, if you didn't count the fact he was in a freaking _wheelchair_ and looked as if he hadn't slept in days, probably months. Dean felt a familiar wave of brotherly protectiveness wash over him as Leah handed each of them a glass filled halfway with what looked like a really good whiskey. The kind of whiskey that Dean hadn't had since… well, since his dad passed away. Ignoring that train of thought, Dean didn't complain as he took a sip. Damn, that _was_ the good stuff. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped him as he sat on the couch, eyeing the girl with a watchful eye. He didn't trust her.

Sam took a glass from Leah, giving her a small smile. She returned it, squeezing his shoulder as she made herself scarce. That made Dean ease and relax a little further on the sofa. Sam watched her go for a moment before looking back at Dean and Bobby.

"So, if I didn't bring you back…" Sam began, "who did?"

"We have no clue. We honestly have no trails, no clues, anything." Bobby spoke up, taking a large pull from the glass before sitting it on the coffee table. He looked around, "Nice place you got here, Sam."

Sam couldn't help but detect the amount of bitterness coming from the older hunter. He hadn't talked to him in… weeks. Sam squirmed as best he could in his wheelchair, holding the glass tighter.

"Bobby," Sam started, sighing, "I'm sorry, alright? I just… I couldn't… "

"I know," Bobby interrupted, saving the boy, "it's alright, son. I'm just glad you're alright."

"Yeah, if you call being in a wheelchair alright," Dean snorted, throwing back the rest of his drink before slamming it on the table, "Speaking of, mind telling us what the hell is up with the wheels, Sam?"

Sam paled, attempting to hide his flinch, "It's nothing."

"Nothing? Looks a hell of a lot more than— Wait, that Leah chick. She said something about checking us out. What did she mean by that?"

He wasn't letting the wheelchair thing go, not by a long shot, but he just realized what she said. Something about she knew that it was really them. How the hell could she tell that without testing them? Dean felt unease wash over him. Something wasn't right about this girl.

Sam sighed, putting his untouched whiskey on the coffee table before putting his gun back where it belonged behind his chair.

"You're not going to believe me." Sam laughed a little, folding his hands together on his lap.

Dean snorted and Bobby rolled his eyes. Sam smiled a little, that was expected.

"Try us," Bobby snapped, his guilt for not being a better friend to Sam coming out in his sarcasm.

"She's a Nephilim." Sam stated calmly and before either could ask he continued, "She's half human… and half angel."

AN: Dun dun dunnn…. Want more? Review please! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

AN: I'm so glad that people are liking this! Reviews make me happy! :) Anyway, onto the story!

_Then__:_

Leah Bateman spent five wonderful years with a loving father, Thomas. He taught her to swim and how to ride a bike. Life was good, even though there was an obvious missing puzzle piece to their family—Leah's mother, Melanie. Leah's father never let a day go by that she didn't know how much Melanie had loved her. Leah never really knew her, only knowing what her father told her. Melanie had died giving birth to Leah and even at 5, Leah felt guilt. It was her fault her mother was gone. Her father never said it, but Leah knew the truth.

One day after coming in from Kindergarten, Leah was excited to show her father what she had drawn that day. She waved goodbye to her carpool driver from the porch and closed the front door behind her. Her father taught at the local high school and wasn't able to pick her up from kindergarten, but thankfully they had great neighbors who had children the same age as Leah. Thomas was always able to be at home a little before his daughter. She excitedly made her way into the kitchen, but coming up short when she saw her father in the arms of a strange man. The man had her father in a chokehold. The man tightened his hold and her father struggled to remain conscious. Leah cried out, drawing falling to the floor, and the man paused briefly, flashing her his black eyes before giving her a smirk and releasing her father. The attacker had disappeared as Leah's father fell to the ground on his hands and knees, panting.

"Everything's okay now, LeLe," Her father panted, raising his head and giving her a slight smile despite being in pain.

Leah kept eye contact with her father as she began walking towards him when the stranger suddenly appeared. He flashed her a grin and brought a machete down on her father. She screamed out in warning, but it was no use. She saw her father beheaded right in front of her eyes. Even now, when she closes her eyes at night, she can still hear herself screaming for him, him looking at her with love and fear right before his head rolled across the floor as the murderer vanished out of thin air once again. Leah can still _feel_ his blood painted on her five year old body. She would never feel clean again.

After that, her life was never the same. She spent the next few years going in and out of foster care. When she was eight years old, she was small for her age and barely talked. She hadn't talked since the day her father was killed, actually. The night of her father's murder, she tried desperately to tell the police about the man with black eyes and could vanish out of thin air, but they just looked at her with sympathetic eyes and sent her with a lady from child services. She screamed and kicked, but it was no use. They thought she was just a child who had been traumatized. While that was true, she knew what she saw.

Leah learned to keep her mouth shut after that. She was sent to several therapists, but none of them could get her to talk. Finally, they gave up on trying to fix her. She was just a foster kid. No one cared _that _much and after a while, it got expensive. She was grateful they stopped. Leah kept to herself, unable to speak of the horrors she had witnessed to anyone for fear of rejection and ridicule. No one would believe her so what was the point? Turns out, even not speaking lead to ridicule. She was doomed from the start. Leah was an easy target for other foster kids living in the system. They called her a freak. A _mutant_ who couldn't—_wouldn't_, in her case—talk to anybody about anything. They picked, teased, and tortured but her mouth remained closed.

It was easier, she told herself, to not get attached to anyone, but as the years drug on she found herself wishing for normalcy. For parents, alive and healthy. For friends. For anything _but_ the life she had.

At 10 years old, Leah had grown sick and tired of being somebody's punching bag. So when a bully came at her one fateful day in the Spring of 1995, she fought back. When the bastard came at her as they always did, intending on torturing the small girl, she pushed him back. All the way across the yard and through the fence that surrounded her current foster home. Everyone's eyes turned to look at her in shock and… fear. They were _afraid_ of her. Leah knew right then that she was never going to have normal because _she_ wasn't normal.

So, she took off without a destination in mind. It wasn't actually that hard to hide from the law, because nobody really cared that she was missing. The adults in her former foster care never believed the children when they claimed she was a superhuman, choosing instead to believe that the fence got destroyed in some other way. Leah couldn't care less. Adults were idiots. Leah hid for years and rejoiced when she turned 18 and was able to legally take care of herself.

_Now__:_

"I'm sorry, a _what_?"

Sam briefly glanced toward the kitchen where he knew Leah would be. He could already smell dinner cooking. He finally looked back at his brother with a sigh.

"She's half-human and half-angel. She can sense anyone's true form. For example, she'd know if either of you were anything but human. She's also super strong and—"

"Hold the hell up," Dean leaned over, putting his elbows on his knees, "You're telling me that that girl is part _angel_?" Sam nodded. Dean ran a hand down his face.

"Well, I'd be damned." Bobby spoke up, a small grin on his face, "It's true, afterall."

"What's true?" Dean turned his head to the right to look at Bobby and said sarcastically, "Mind sharing with the class?"

"Watch that tone," Bobby warned before continuing, "Just a week or so ago, I got a call from a hunter friend of mine, Daniel. He was hunting a shape shifter and things went south. He wasn't going to make it out of there alive. That is, until a bright, white light enveloped him. The last thing he saw was a pair of black angel wings spreading across the length of the barn. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in a hospital."

Dean snorted, "He must've hit his head—"

"It's true." Leah spoke up, walking into the living room with a couple of beers, "I've heard about– what is that?"

"What is what?"

She walked closer, motioning to Dean's right arm. She sat the beers on the coffee table before looking back at Dean. He sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes at her. She sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Fun fact about me: I can sense Angel mojo. I can't believe I didn't notice it as soon as you walked in. Can you take off your shirt?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking at Bobby and Sam. He smirked, "Sorry, sweetheart, you gotta buy me dinner first—"

"I made dinner so that technically counts," She interrupted, smirking back at him, "Now take off your shirt."

"Wait, so you think an _angel_ pulled Dean out of Hell?" Sam questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "What's that gotta do with him taking his shirt off?"

"I think so. I won't be able to tell unless I see it." Leah gave Dean a look. They had met less than half an hour ago and here he was taking off his shirt.

Dean sighed reluctantly, muttering about chicks being demanding and then did as she said. He took off his flannel and lifted up his right sleeve on his green t-shirt, revealing a bright red handprint. She smiled a little, out of satisfaction, "Ah, ha. I knew it. Sometimes angels, _powerful_ angels, leave marks."

"Holy shit." Bobby whistled, watching as Leah inspected it. Sam stared at it, guilt washing over him in waves. The handprint was only a reminder of where his brother had been the past few months. He swallowed to keep the bile at bay.

"Definitely the work of an angel," Leah said softly, biting her lip, "Do you mind if I, uh, touch it? I might be able to tell who _exactly_ pulled you out." She blushed, but looked Dean in the eyes. Dean looked over at Sam to see him narrow his eyes at him. The eldest Winchester smirked, loving how this would annoy Sam, "Go right ahead."

"It won't hurt, I promise." Leah smiled softly, lifting her hand to touch the handprint.

Just as she put her fingers on it, Leah gasped as her vision blurred, twisting and melting into images. Dean in Hell, being tortured and screaming for help. A bright light. Fluttering of wings. A man in a trench coat was saying something. Coming. Soon. That was all she got before her vision swam. She fought the urge to throw up, feeling as if she had been taken on a roller coaster fifteen times. She pulled away, gasping for air as she tripped and fell onto her knees next to Sam. Dean and Bobby stood up, wanting to help her.

"Holy shit," She exclaimed, her eyes clenched shut, "That was like a bad acid trip."

"You okay?" Sam asked worriedly, "Oh shit. You're bleeding."

Leah opened her eyes to see that blood was, in fact, dripping onto her clenched hand. She turned over, landing on her butt as she reached up with a shaking hand to inspect the damage. She touched beneath her nose and pulled away, looking at her fingers. She lifted her eyes up to meet Sam's worried gaze.

"He's coming." Leah said hurriedly, trying to stand up but failing.

"What? Who?" Dean asked worriedly, reaching down to help her off the ground. She stumbled, but he held on tight to keep her standing. Leah swallowed back the rising bile as she locked eyes with Sam.

"The angel who rescued Dean. He's coming here. Like, soon."

AN: Hope you liked it! Review please!


End file.
